


The King of Winter

by LordSkaen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-04-16 04:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSkaen/pseuds/LordSkaen
Summary: Robb Stark, The Young Wolf, The King of Winter. The greatest fighter and commander of his age. This is a story of how he defined a golden era of an entire continent along with his wife Margaery Stark, The Queen of Winter, after crushing his enemies in the War of the Five Kings.





	1. Prologue

_To his most esteemed and gracious king, Robb the first of his name,_

_King of Winter, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men,_

_Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Zarabelo, humble_

_Archmaester of the Citadel wishes thousand prosperity, now and forever,_

_and wisdom ummatchful._

_....._

_THE NORTH_

_The vast and frigid realm of the Starks of Wintefell, generally considered as the first and oldest of the Seven Kingdoms, in that it has endured, unconuered for the longest. The vagaries of geography and history set the North apart from their southron neighbours._

_The North, comprising of more than a third of the realm, is ruled by House Stark of Winterfell, which they have ruled for thousands of years. Beginning at the southern edge of the Neck, the domains of the Starks extend as far north as the New Gift. Within the North are great forests and windswept plains, hills and valleys, rocky shores, and snow-crowned mountains. The North is a cold land - much of it is rising moorlands and high plains giving way to mountains in its northern reaches. Snow falls here even in summer and it is deadly in winter. As deadly as the Northmen when their fury is roused, as the saying goes._

_Until 299 AC White Harbor was the sole city in the North. But now, there are four cities - Winter City, White Harbor, Rillhaven and Port Cailin._

_Winter City, considered to be the most beautiful city in Westeros, is the capital of the North and the largest city in the region. It is spread over an intricate network of natural hot springs around Winterfell, the ancestral seat of the Royal House of Stark. With ice-capped mountains bordering it in the north, the large Wolfswood in the north-west, the river White Knife in the south and with perpetual snowfall in a misty landscape, it is justified to call this city as the most beautiful in Westeros. Previously it was just a small town which used to get filled during winter and remain four-fifths empty during summer. But then it was improved and expanded on the orders of His Grace King Robb when he became the Lord Regent of the North. The city contains a large inland harbor in the headwater of White Knife._

_Rillhaven, located in the Rills, is the only city on the west coast of the North. It is the entry and exit point for trade between the Riverlands, Westerlands, Reach and the North._

_White Harbor is a harbor city on the east coast of the North which contains New Castle, the seat of House Manderly. It lies at the mouth of the White Knife and it is the primary trade port in the east. It provides defense to the White Knife - the river that provides access to the very heart of the North._

_Port Cailin is the fourth and smallest city in the North. It serves as a trading port where merchants travelling on land from the south transport their goods by ships past White Harbor into the North and across the Narrow Sea to Braavos. Due to the close relations between the Royal Stark family and Braavos, many trade ships from Braavos dock at Port Cailin._

_Excerpt from the book History of Westeros  by Archmaester Zarabelo_

* * *

 

**PROLOGUE:**

**The Red Keep, 305 AC**

A young and lean man with dark brown hair, grey eyes, and a long solemn fave walked down the corridor that led to the throne room with his huge direwolf padding alongside him. A shiny badge of office shaped like a hand sat upon his chest which signified his position as the third most powerful person in the Seven Kingdoms. He was followed by two members of the deadly Wolfsguard - Deputy Commander Rodrik Forrester and Ser Balon Swann, who were charged with his protection for the day. As usual, he was on time and was about to hold court in the absence of his King and Queen, something that doesn't happen often. Hundreds of ladies and lords from every kingdom were waiting for him in the throne room. As he entered the cavernous hall, all of them stood up in respect and herald started announcing

"ALL RISE FOR PRINCE JON OF HOUSE STARK, LORD OF STARKFORT AND HAND OF THE KING".

* * *

 

 


	2. News from White Harbor

_White Harbor_

_White Harbor is one of the four cities of the North which contains the seat of House Manderly. It is the North's primary center of trade and merchant activity in the east and the oldest and second largest city in the region. It is located on the eastern shore of the White Knife and provides defense to the river. It is one of the four shipbuilding centers in the North and it is home to the powerful Stark fleet on the east coast._

_The original settlement was formed around the Wolf's Den fortress, founded at the order of King Jon Stark several millennia ago to provide a trading link with the rest of Westeros and defend the mouth of the White Knife River against raiders from the sea. After the Manderlys fled the Reach, they were welcomed by the Starks of Winterfell as their own bannermen. The Starks awarded the castle of Wolf's Den to the Manderlys and tasked them with defending the White Knife in return for swearing an oath that they would always be loyal subjects of House Stark. The Manderlys built the city with the wealth they had brought from the Reach._

_White Harbor was the smallest city in the Seven Kingdoms until it was expanded by Lord Wyman Manderly at the behest of King Robb when he became the Lord Regent of the North as Lord Eddard went south to become the Hand of the King. The old mint, one of the three currency mints of Seven Kingdoms is present here. The city has access to good fishing grounds and is also the home of many renowned silversmiths. Four-fifths of the trade from the North involving lumber, fur, soft fruits and other materials_ _go through the city._

_The New Castle, the seat of House Manderly is located on a hill inside the city wall, a broad white stone way of Castle Stair leads to its gates from the Wolf's Den below. The outskirts of the city include Seal Rock, the Harbor and the Wolf's Den. Seal Rock is a massive stone dominating the approaches to the Outer Harbor. The Manderlys fortify it with crossbowmen, scorpions, and Spitfires. The stone looms fifty feet above the waters, grey-green in color. The harbor is divided into the inner and outer harbors. The outer harbor is larger, but the inner harbor offers better anchorage and shelter by the city wall on one side and the looming mass of the Wolf's Den on another. A mile-long, thirty-foot wall, with towers every hundred yards, is located on the jetty that separates the two harbors. The Wolf's Den is an ancient fortress which previously served as a prison. Now it is garrisoned by soldiers and sailors of the Stark fleet. It is located by the water and adjoins the city walls._

_The city contains three massive shipyards that cater to the needs of the Northern navy. The city battlements like other cities of the North bristles with scorpions, trebuchets, and spitfires. The city is policed by a well-trained city watch of two thousand men._

_Excerpt from the book Cities of Westeros by Maester Erreck - 307AC_

* * *

**NEWS FROM WHITE HARBOR**

**Winterfell, 297 AC**

**Ned**

_He rushed into the room and was suddenly hit with a strong smell of blood and roses. Two women who looked to be Dornish midwives were at the bedside of his sister. They immediately moved away when they saw him bursting into the room._

_"LYANNA!" he cried._

_His beautiful and willful sister looked weak and sweaty. A sheet covered half of her body and it was drenched in blood. It looked as though the blood was seeping through the sheet onto the bed._

_As he approached his sister, she called out weakly, "Ned is that you?"_

_"Lya," he said softly._

_"Is that really you?" She clasped his hand in a tight grip. "You are not a dream?"_

_"No, I am not a dream. I am here. Right here," he said softly._

_"I've missed you, big brother."_

_"I've missed you too," he replied as he felt tears pooling in his eyes._

_Lyanna began to sob,"I want to be brave, big brother."_

_"You are."_

_"I am not," she said as she removed her hand from his. It was full of blood. "I don't want to die."_

_"You are not going to die."_

_Tears started falling from his eyes but he didn't feel any of them. "GET HER SOME WATER OR A MAESTER," he shouted desperately to the two women._

_"No. Listen to me, Ned. Please listen to me," begged Lyanna as she pulled him close and started whispering in his ears._

_Suddenly everything went blurry and he heard a distant whisper. "Promise me, Ned." His sister's sweet voice echoed in his dream._

 

He woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. The dream was unusually vivid and his sister's final words were still ringing in his ears. He looked to his side and saw his wife sleeping peacefully with her head on his soldiers and an arm around him. He softly kissed her on the forehead when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He threw off the covers from his naked body and got down from the bed slowly so that he didn't disturb his wife. He walked to the windows and opened them to let the cool morning breeze in. He had always liked the windows open, unlike his wife who shivered everytime the windows were open.

Again he heard a knock on the door. He padded to the door while throwing on a robe on his body on the way.

He opened the door to find Mester Luwin to his surprise. "Luwin, Good Morning. What is the matter?" he asked in a surprised tone. Usually, it was Vayon Poole, his steward who wakes him up in the mornings. So he was a bit surprised to find the aged maester outside his room at this early hour.

"Good morning, My Lord," the maester said. He was a small man with grey eyes that observed everything keenly. He wore a robe of grey wool with white fur; the Stark colours. He has faithfully served his family for the last fifteen years.

"A rider bearing the Manderly colours has arrived. Lord Wyman has personally written you a letter," he said as he stretched out his hand with a letter bearing the Merman seal.

"Open it, Luwin and read while I change into some proper attire."

By the time he had finished changing Luwin had read the letter and was waiting for him.

"So, what does Lord Wyman say in the letter?"

"He hopes your family is well. He says that Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone has arrived at White Harbor with his two sons, Ser Robar and Ser Waymar Royce. It seems Ser Waymar is going to join the Night's Watch. So, the party will be travelling Castle Black and they hope to stop here for a few days for supplies and rest,"

"Yohn is a good friend. His family is one of the few south of the Neck which holds the Night's Watch in high regard. His son taking the black is a good thing. The Night's Watch needs al the men it can get," he said and Maester Luwin nodded in agreement.

He was looking forward to meeting the Lord of Runestone whom he knew well from his days of fostering by Jon Arryn at the Eyrie. Jon and Yohn were close friends and Jon used to take him and Robert to Runestone a lot in those days. The last time they met was at King's Landing, at the end of the war. So he was quite happy that he got to see a good friend after a long time.

"Ser Waymar, is he the second son?" he asked Luwin.

"Third son," the maester corrected him. "Ser Robar is the second, Ser Andar Royce is the firstborn and heir. He has a daughter who is the youngest, named Ysilla if I am not wrong."

"What are their ages?"

"Andar is twenty-two, Robar is nineteen, Waymar is seventeen and Ysilla is fifteen I believe."

"Did the rider say when they will be here?"

"He said that they should be about two days ride from here."

He nodded. "Assign him a comfortable room to stay and invite him for breakfast. Then, please ask Vayon to prepare a hot bath for me and Catelyn."

"As you say, My Lord." Luwin bowed and left to do what was asked.

He closed the door and approached the bed he shared with his wife. She was still sleeping soundly. He sat on the edge near Catelyn and gently shook her.

"Cat, my love, wake up."

She stirred and blearily opened her eyes as she looked up at him. He kissed her on her lips which earned him a smile."Good morning."

"Good morning, Ned." She wrinkled her nose,"Your mouth stinks."

He chuckled at that. "My Lady, your mouth smells like blue winter roses.," he teased which resulted in him getting a swat on the arm. Very few people got to see this side of him.

"I have asked Vayon to draw up a hot bath. Come, we will take it together."

He waited as his wife got down from their bed and put on a robe before carrying on with their day.

* * *

He was waiting in his solar for his wife and Maester Luwin. They needed to discuss matters of trade and administration of the North.

 _Winter is coming._ He thought.  _We need prepare. the North must be strong when it faces winter. The coming winter is going to be a very long one._

Fortunately for him and the North, these years of summer have been prosperous despite the war the Ironborn had dragged them into. His father, the late Lord Rickard Stark had been very astute when it came to trade and administration. At the time of his unfortunate death, the North was in a very prosperous state which had continued after a small downturn in the year of Greyjoy rebellion. The rebellion and the short-lived winter before that year did not have much effect on North's economy. During the rebellion, North did not bear the brunt of Greyjoy attack and Robert already had superior numbers and resources which were used to crush the rebellion easily. While he was no magician of trade, he had taken significant steps to increase the amount of trade flowing in and out of the North. The last eight years since the rebellion were of peace and plenty.

Just then his wife entered the room followed by Maester Luwin.

"Bad news, My Lord," said Maester Luwin sadly. Those words brought back old memories for him. The last time he had heard these words uttered by a Maester was when his brother Brandon was arrested in the Red Keep for threatening the crown prince. So much has happened since then.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly.

It was his wife who answered. "Lord Bolton's only son and heir Domeric has died."

"How?"

"Sickness of the bowels, it seems," replied Luwin.

"That is very sad. No one should outlive their child," he said. "We need to send Lord Bolton our condolences."

He then proceeded to write a letter of condolence and gave it to Maester Luwin.

"Send this to Lord Bolton with a rider."

Luwin took the letter and put it into one of his many hidden pockets in his sleeve.

"Before we start, I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it, Ned?" his wife asked.

"I think it is time for Robb to start sitting in our discussions. He will rule the North after me. Ser Rodrik says he has nothing else to teach him and he is excellent in combat. I agree with him." At which he and Catelyn exchanged proud smiles.

"Now that he has finished his training, he needs to know the hardships and challenges of ruling the North."

"Very wise, My Lord," Maester Luwin gave his approval immediately.

"You are right, Ned," Catelyn said.

"I'll talk to him after we finish this meeting," he said getting nods from the other two occupants of the room.

And then they moved on to matters of state.

* * *

After their discussion got over, he immediately left in search of his eldest son. He walked in the direction that would take him to Winterfell's huge training was the largest of the dozens of courtyards in the vast complex of Winterfell. The weapons training took place there.

He found Robb sparring furiously with Jon while the castle master-at-arms Ser Rodrik Cassel was watching them intently.

Ser Rodrik was a stout and broad man with large whiskers on either side of his face. He was the uncle of his Captain of Guards Jory Cassel and the younger brother of Martyn Cassel, Jory's father who fought and died for him in the war against the Targaryens. The Cassels emblazon their arms with ten white wolf heads on grey with a black border. They were all courageous and extremely loyal to House Stark.

As he neared the sparring area, he saw Jon lunging at Robb with the sword on his right hand which he parried expertly.

Robb and Jon, both preferred two swords in their hands instead of a sword in one and a shield in the other. High leather boots with steel shin guards covered their legs along with thigh padding while light armour covered their torsos. This would allow them to move and dodge quickly while making it easy for them to strike the opponent.

Suddenly Ser Rodrik shouted,"Well done, lads! Well done!"

As he looked around he saw his younger sons Bran and Rickon along with Jory and other guards, who were standing on the edge of the training area, clapping enthusiastically.

"Ser Rodrik, how are they faring?" he asked the old knight.

"My Lord," the knight turned towards him and bowed respectfully. "I swear My Lord, your sons are born for combat. They are going to be some of the best swordsmen in Westeros. I guarantee you that. Give them a year and they will even be able to defeat you," he said with a huge smile.

Hearing those words filled him with pride. His two boys, both just fifteen years of age and already they are exceptional in combat. He has sparred with them himself and he must accept, they were exceptional indeed. He has told as much to Catelyn who beamed with pride every time he brought this up. Of course, he didn't praise Jon in front of his wife, lest he angered her.

The old knight continued, "Robb is little better with the sword and I swear by the Old Gods, he got his skill of spear-wielding from you. And Jon, he is clearly better with the bow and he can match Robb in jousting."

"Good. Very good. I'll borrow Robb for a while, I need to talk to him."

"Yes, My Lord," Rodrik bobbed his head before he shouted at them to stop.

"Enough for today. Robb, your lord father wants to talk to you," Rodrik motioned his son towards him. He nodded a greeting to Jon as Robb, sweaty and tired from the sparring came towards him panting.

"Father, Good morning."

"Good morning son. Go remove your armour and wash your face. Then come with me, I need to talk to you."

"Yes father," his son replied and moved to do as he was asked.

Then he went to Jon. "Jon, Ser Rodrik says you and Robb are doing well," he said smiling.

"We are doing our best," replied Jon with a huge smile.

"Good. I am proud of you. Both of you," he said as he indicated towards Robb.

"Where is Theon? he asked as he looked around for his ward.

"He is in the archery yard."

"Hmmm... Go on. Have your breakfast. I will see you later," he said as he clasped Jon's shoulder before he left with Robb.

* * *

He and Robb walked in silence along the wall that overlooked the castle godswood.

Robb broke the silence, "What is it you wanted to talk to me about, father?"

He put an arm around his son as they walked. It seems as though just yesterday he saw Robb for the first time, snuggled up in the arms of his wife. Now, fifteen years of age, he was strong and broad and was growing every day.

"I spoke with Ser Rodrik," he said.

"Oh, what did he say?"

"He says that he has nothing else to teach you."

His son just smiled in response. "You did not bring me here to talk about that, did you? Or else you wouldn't have brought me here. You have something important to tell me," his son concluded.

"Indeed" he nodded. "Now that you have finished your training, I feel it is time for you to get some experience about ruling the North. You will be the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North after me. So, you will join me, your mother and Maester Luwin during our meetings. You will get to know the challenges of administration and the nuances of trade. From now on, you will give me your thoughts and opinions on all matters. I will consider them as I consider your mother's and Maester Luwin's, then I will act accordingly."

As he finished speaking, he saw Robb's face break into a huge smile.

"You honour me, father," he said with a small bow.

"This is not an honour, Robb. It is a huge burden. A burden that will fall on your shoulders when I am gone. I know you are ready for this," he said with a smile as he clasped Robb's shoulders.

"I will not let you down," came the sincere reply from his son.

"I know. Come, your mother will be waiting for us."

"Father" Robb stopped him, "What about Jon?" he asked.

The question removed the smile from his face. He sighed sadly. "You know your mother's opinion of Jon."

Robb looked down sadly.

"But," he continued with a smile," that should not deter you from passing on what you learn to him."

Robb grinned in response.

"Just don't tell your mother or she will kill us both," he jested.

Robb nodded with a huge smile as they moved to the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Post your thoughts in the comments section.


	3. First Command

_House Royce_

_House Royce of Runestone is an old and powerful noble house of the Vale, sworn to House Arryn. Their ancestral seat, Runestone, lies on the shore of a peninsula north of the Bay of Crabs._ _Runestone was the ancient seat of the_ _Bronze Kings_ _of old from_ _House Royce_ _who submitted to the Andal House of Arryn during the Andal Invasion._

_House Royce is one of the few houses south of the Neck that proudly claims the blood of the First Men. Though their blood has been diluted by thousands of years of intermarriage with Andal houses. Their house words are "We Remember" and they blazon their arms with black studs on a bronze field surrounded by runes in the Old Tongue of the First Men._ _It is one of the most powerful and wealthy houses in the Vale. The Royces possess a set of bronze armor, thousands of years old inscribed with runes._

_The current head of the house is Lord Yohn Royce, also known as Bronze Yohn. He is married to Lady Yonella of House Hunter. He has three sons: Andar, Robar, and Waymar and a daughter Ysilla._

_House Coldwater of Coldwater Burn, House Shett of Gull Tower, and House Tollett of Grey Glen are sworn to House Royce. They can raise about five-thousand men under their banners._

_Excerpt from the book Noble Houses of Seven Kingdoms by Archmaester Nymos._

* * *

 

**FIRST COMMAND**

**Winterfell, 297AC**

**Robb**

As soon as they finished their talk, he and his father moved to the great hall for breakfast. As he entered the great hall he saw Jon sitting with Arya on the table near to the high table with Sansa and Bran on his opposite side, having breakfast. As the smell of food wafted through the air, his stomach rumbled causing him to realize how hungry he was. He and his father parted ways as he moved to the table where his siblings were breaking their fast while his father went towards the high table.

He lifted his younger sister to make some space which caused her to shout in annoyance, "Robb! I'm eating" causing him to laugh off her protest.

"Jon, move a little," he said to his half-brother as he sat next to him. A plate of lemon cakes along with apples, strawberries and a bowl of wrinkled plums were laid out on the table. His sister Sansa who was sitting on the opposite side of the table was savoring the taste of lemon cakes while Bran was having honeyed porridge. Seeing them eat, he felt his stomach rumbling again.

He called out to a serving girl. "Please bring me six pieces of toasted bread with boiled eggs and a plate of fish fried with onions and bacon" he finished with a charming smile causing the girl to blush prettily. Jon rolled his eyes at his half-brother's antics.

"Oh… and a cup of hot tea" he shouted to the girl's back.

He turned to see Jon looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Are you going to feed the entire Winter Town?" Jon asked with a smile while Arya followed with her own quip, "you have a huge pit in place of a stomach, I know it."

"Shut up you two, you know the training makes me hungry. Ser Rodrik drove us pretty hard today."

"That he did," Jon agreed.

The serving girl brought a tray full of dishes that he had asked and placed it on the table. He immediately dug into the food with fervor as his siblings watched him with amused smiles.

"Eat slowly Robb," Jon chided him, "your lady mother is watching."

He looked up at the high table and saw his mother looking at him with an amused smile. She was sitting to his father's right while Vayon, the castle steward was sitting to the left chatting something with his father while Maester Luwin was sitting to his mother's left occupying the last place. His father always reserved one place at his high table so that each day he could invite different members of his household to join him during the meal. Today it was the steward Vayon. As the eldest son and heir, he had a place at the high table during meals, but he preferred to sit with his brothers and sisters and he was the only person other than his father who could break up a fight between his sisters.

He whispered to Jon, "I know what is going on in your head."

"What?" asked Jon.

"You want to know why father wanted to talk to me alone."

"I do not," Jon replied promptly.

He let out a snort. "Yeah, right," he said skeptically.

"Fine. What did father talk to you about?"

"I'll tell you later. As you said my lady mother is watching," he whispered smiling, prompting a scowl from Jon.

"Where is Theon?" he asked him. Jon shrugged in response. There was no love lost between the two of them. Theon found Jon sullen and quick to sense a slight while Jon found him arrogant and vain. They never shared a friendly relationship.

"I think we should go fishing in the Wolfswood today," he said to Jon.

"It sounds like a good idea. We don't have any other duties today so we might as well. Do you think we should ask Jory to come too?" asked Jon.

"Good idea.I almost forgot Jory enjoyed fishing. We will ask him after breakfast."

Jon nodded in agreement.

"Can I come too?" Bran eagerly piped up.

"Not today Bran."

"Please Robb. I'll be good. I promise," Bran begged.

"You have your lessons with Maester Luwin. Father will be angry if you miss it." Jon told his half-brother causing him to sigh sadly.

"You can come if Maester Luwin allows you to postpone your lessons. If not we will visit Winter Town after we return," he told Bran who brightened up a little and nodded at his brother.

He looked up at the high table to find Maester Luwin's seat empty and turned to Bran who was finishing the last of his porridge.

"You better hurry Bran. Maester Luwin has left. He will be waiting for you in his turret."

Bran nodded at his brother and ran out of the hall. Sansa who was finished with her breakfast stood up gracefully and bid farewell to her siblings before joining her friend Jeyne Poole outside of the Great Hall.

"Now, why is my dear little sister silent?" he asked Arya with a pointed look.

"I know that look. You are going to sneak out. Aren't you?" Jon said to Arya.

"No, I am not" replied an annoyed Arya as she met the skeptical gazes of her brothers.

"You have some needlework to do with Septa Mordane," Jon teased Arya with a nudge to her ribs.

Arya scowled at her brothers. "I hate needlework"

"We know" he and Jon chorused.

"You have made that very clear plenty of times."

Arya groaned. "Robb please let me come. Needlework is boring. You know how Sansa and Jeyne annoy me during needlework. Jeyne always calls me horseface behind Septa Mordane's back."

"You ask Septa Mordane to let you come. I'll take you if she accepts."

"She will never allow me. Please Robb," said Arya.

"Fine. We'll take you but only if you manage to escape without getting caught. I will not vouch for you if you get caught. Deal?" he asked as he held out his hand.

"Deal!" said his beaming sister as they shook hands.

"Now, off you go" he motioned her out.

"I'll see you both near the Hunter's Gate in an hour," his sister said. "And don't you dare leave me."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Jon replied, amusement clear in his voice and expression.

* * *

 

"Why are we still walking? We have found the stream," complained Arya as he, Jon, Bran, and Jory were walking along a rushing stream in the Wolfswood accompanied by a few guards.

Jory smiled at Arya and started explaining to her, "A stream alone is not enough. We need a good spot to fish."

"How will we find it?" Arya piped up prompting chuckles from him and Jon.

"You are a curious little girl, aren't you?" asked Jory with a smile.

"We need to find a part of the stream that occurs when the water hits objects like rocks or fallen trees. Water doesn't move very much in those places so it is easier for us to fish there." Jory explained patiently.

As they walked further, Arya suddenly shouted, "Look there!"

She and Bran ran and climbed past a huge rock to reach the place she had pointed to.

"You have found it," he said as he looked down from the rock. He jumped down and motioned to the guards, to bring the buckets they were holding near the stream.

"Fill the buckets with some water," he told them.

"Why do we need to fill them with water? The fishes are going to die anyway," said Bran.

"We can keep the fishes fresh if we put them in the bucket with water," said Jon.

"Who taught you fishing?" asked Arya causing him to huff.

"Are you going to stop asking questions or not?"

"No," Arya replied with a smirk.

"Jory taught us," Jon replied. "Go on, ask Jory to teach you both," he said to Arya and Bran who took off towards Jory before coming near him.

"So, what did father say?" Jon asked him as they started fishing while Jory was with Arya and Bran a few meters away.

"He said that I am ready to get involved in meetings about administration and trade."

Jon looked at him in surprise with his eyebrows raised, "Father asked you to attend his meetings?"

"Yes," he said with a smile.

Jon beamed at him. "That is good Robb. Now you can learn a lot of new things. It will be valuable to you when you rule the North. I am happy for you," he said with a smile.

"Thanks, Jon. I.." he hesitated, " I asked father about you."

"What did you ask?" Jon asked as he refused to meet his eye.

"You know very well what I am talking about."

"Look, Robb, I'm a bas-" Jon started before he interrupted.

"Jon," he said sternly, "we may not have shared a womb, but you are my brother," he said as Jon looked away.

"Stark blood flows in your veins, Jon. The same blood which runs my veins and in our father's and forefathers'. The blood of Kings. You. Are. My. Brother. Do not forget it. One day, you can be my bannerman and you can have a keep of your own with men, lands, and title," he said to his half-brother and was met with silence.

He carried on. "Do you know what father said?" he asked him.

"What?" Jon asked in return.

"Whatever I learn from those meetings, I can pass it on to you," he told him with a smile and he was rewarded with one in return.

"He told you that?"

He nodded. "He did. But we have to be careful, lest my mother comes to know about this. Then all seven hells will break loose," he joked. "We can meet in my room after dinner on the days that we have those discussions and I will tell you everything we discuss. Sounds good?"

"Yes. Thanks, Robb" Jon said sincerely.

"Hey, this is what brothers are for," he replied with a smile as he clasped Jon's shoulders. "I will do everything in my power to pass on my knowledge to my little brother" he joked causing Jon to roll his eyes.

"Come on, Arya is watching us. She is going to needle us afterward if we don't join them now."

* * *

 

They emerged out of the Wolfswood, galloping across the open fields towards the looming castle. He felt the cool morning air on his face as the Hunter's Gate drew near. Few people were moving in and out through the gate as they went past the eighty feet high outer wall, then over the drawbridge over the moat and finally past the inner wall which was a hundred feet high. The Stark soldiers standing guard near the walls bowed to him as they entered the castle with him in the lead. They moved past the kennels and turned right to reach the stables. He heard a voice call out to him. It was Farlen, the kennel master.

He dismounted from his horse as his siblings and Jory stopped behind him.

"Farlen! How are you doing this morning?" he asked him with a smile.

"Good, M'Lord. My thanks for asking," he said with a bow. "Your Lord Father asked me to inform you that he wants to meet Captain Jory, M'Lord and he asked you to bring the little Lady Arya to him," he said as he looked at them.

He heard Arya groan behind him. He smothered a chuckle while Jon and Bran were openly laughing.

"Thank You, Farlen. We will go meet him now. You carry on with your work."

Farlen bowed deeply and went back to his kennels. He turned and exchanged an amused glance with Jory.

"Jon, Bran you two go on and take our horses to the stables and Bran, Maester Luwin will be expecting you." His brothers nodded at him and left as the guards that accompanied them dispersed.

"Now," he said as he looked at his youngest sister, "What will you say when you meet father?"

Arya sighed in despair. "I will tell him that you and Jon had no part in my escape from Septa Mordane's lessons."

"Good!"

"Come along little lady your father will be waiting for us," an amused Jory told Arya.

They reached the large courtyard behind the kennels and the library tower. As he glanced around, he saw his father walking towards him from the Great Keep at the far end of the courtyard.

"Ah, Robb, Jory" he nodded in greeting.

Then he saw Arya hiding behind Jory. "Arya," he sighed, "Where did you go? Septa Mordane was searching the whole castle for you."

"Fishing," his sister replied getting a stern look from their father.

"Your brothers didn't know that you had lessons with Septa Mordane?"

"No," his sister said looking down.

Now it was his turn get a stern look from his father. He ignored it by looking around the courtyard casually while struggling to maintain his stoic face.

"Arya, wait for me in my room. Go on," his father said to his sister. His sister nodded and ran away.

His father turned to Jory. "Jory, I need to you take four of our men and ride out tomorrow morning at the first light to escort Lord Royce and his sons. You know there is an abandoned watchtower along the Kingsroad, just a few hours ride away, wait for them there. It will give you a good view towards the south."

"Yes, My Lord. I will take Alyn, Harwin, Cayn, and Quent," Jory said too his father to which he nodded in approval.

"Father, I wish to go with them," he said politely. "You say they are our friends. I wish to get to know Lord Royce and his sons as we ride to Winterfell," he explained to his father.

His father gave him a long look before he nodded in approval. "You are right, Robb. You can go tomorrow," he said as he looked at Jory. "Robb will lead the party, Jory."

He looked at his father in surprise before turning to Jory who mirrored his expression.

"Me?" he asked in surprise while Jory dutifully responded, "Yes, My Lord."

"This is your first command. You are old enough to lead Robb. This is just a small party. Nothing of significance. But still, exercise caution when you are giving out orders," his father said. "I don't need to ask you both to be careful. Kingsroad in the North might be safer than the south but still, I would advise you to be alert" his father said to both of them. Though he had a feeling that this was directed more towards him than Jory.

His father nodded at them before he left the way he came. He left in search of Jon and Theon while Jory gave him a small smile and followed his father.

* * *

 

The next morning, he woke up early and prepared for the trip to receive the Royces. He quickly cleaned himself and dressed up. He carefully checked both of his swords before inserting them in their scabbards and placed them on his back. They were two bastard swords with black handles and silver direwolf pommels with their mouths open in a snarl. Jon's swords were the same but with white pommels. He then fixed his a dagger in his belt and inserted another one in his left boot. He fastened his fur cloak with a silver direwolf pin and went to the mirror that was standing on his table. Satisfied with his appearance he went to meet Jory and his men.

Jory was waiting for him under the bridge between the armory and the Great Keep.

"Expecting a fight, My Lord?" Jory asked him checking out his swords behind his back and the dagger on his belt.

He gave the Captain a funny look. "Since when did you start addressing me as 'My Lord' ?"

"Since your lord father asked me to ride out under your command," Jory replied with a smile.

He just nodded in return with a smile. "As to your earlier question, we are traveling on the Kingroad. So it is better to be safe than sorry."

Jory nodded in approval

"Are the horses saddled and ready?"

"They are, My Lord," Jory replied.

"And the men?"

"They are waiting for you near the East Gate."

The east gate was one of the four gates in Winterfell and it led directly to the Kingsroad, so people traveling on the Kingsroad can come and go without having to cross through the Winter Town.

"Good. Come we need to hurry. We have to reach our destination before the Royces."

* * *

 

They arrived at the long-abandoned watchtower well before the Royces. Some of the stones that made its wall have fallen from their places and were overgrown with moss and ivy.

As soon as he got down from his horse he started issuing orders.

"Cayn, Quent go and scout the surroundings. And watch out for the Royces."

Both the guards bowed dutifully and went to do as asked.

"Harwin tie our horses to that pole," he said indicating to a pole near the wall "and go to the vault and look out for banners."

"Jory, Alyn come with me. We will gather some wood and start a fire. We do not know when they will reach this place."

They started gathering firewood in the forest near the watchtower. After nearly half-hour, Cayn and Quent came galloping in their horses with a look of urgency in their faces.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Bandits, M'Lord. Bandits, wildlings and deserters." Cayn said.

"Wildlings? Deserters?" he asked incredulously. Wildlings this far south was unheard of. It was extremely difficult to reach this far south without being detected by the Northmen.

"Yes, M'Lord. A group of bandits, three wildlings, and three Night's Watch deserters," Quent replied, "The deserters had bows with them."

"How many in total?" he asked.

"Hard to say, M'Lord. We heard the thudding of hooves. We think they are waiting to ambush."

He swore under his breath. "It must be the Royces."

"Jory, bring Harwin here."

Jory nodded and ran towards the tower. He turned towards Cayn and Quent.

"The men with the bows where are they?"

"On the other side of the road, M'Lord. Two of them."

As soon as Jory returned with Harwin, he asked, "Your commands, My Lord."

He suddenly realized that they were looking at him for instructions. He felt nervous and excited. He has to make decisions now. Decisions that will impact his life and the lives of his men and the Royces, who unknowingly are walking into a trap and gods forbid if he botched this up. He felt his hands shaking and willed them to stop. Giving out a silent prayer to the Old Gods, he started giving out commands.

"Cayn, Quent you both take your shields and move to the other side of the road. Take out the archers as silently as possible."

Both them men nodded and moved towards their horses.

"No horses! They will hear us coming. Go by foot and be silent. Remove your swords from the scabbards now or they might hear you. After you reach there do not attack them immediately. Let them spring up their ambush and alert the Royces. Then attack the archers first. That will allow the Royces to react. And Alyn you go with them and you concentrate on the others. Be careful."

The three of them left immediately.

"Jory, Harwin come with me."

They removed their sword from their scabbards and moved silently to the place of ambush. They found a small ridge nearby and immediately laid flat on its edge.

They looked down the ridge carefully.

"Six men, My Lord," Jory replied, "No archers."

"Good," he said, "You both take the three on the right. I will engage the remaining. Be very silent, we need surprise on our side. As soon as you near them, throw your daggers at their heads. We do not need them alive. As soon as you are finished you come and back me up. I will hold them off till you come," he said to the other two men.

"Robb.." Jory started but stopped seeing the look on his face.

"I will hold them off," he said in a voice that brooked no arguments.

They came down the ridge silently. As he was about to lift his sword, the ambush was sprung.

He identified Lord Yohn immediately, his bronze armor was easy to identify. Two men who must be his sons were following him. While one guard was riding in front of them and another one in their rear. Suddenly Lord Royce's horse was struck by an arrow causing him and the horse to fall down. They attacked immediately. All around the party men emerged and started fighting. Chaos, it was pure chaos.

He surged forward and buried one of his swords at the back of a bandit who screamed as he went down causing the other two to turn towards him. They raised their swords and moved towards him. He easily parried their attacks. He swung his right-hand sword with such speed that one of the bandit's sword was knocked out of his hand. He cut his throat with one swift swing of his other sword. Seeing the two men dead in a matter of seconds, the third man ran. He immediately removed his dagger from its sheath and threw it towards the man's head. It found its aim correctly.

"It seems you don't need my help," he heard Jory comment having finished killing the others.

As he looked around, he saw the Royces having their attackers on the back foot and moved towards them. As he neared the fighting, he saw an archer aiming towards Lord Yohn.

"LORD YOHN! WATCH OUT!"

Before thinking, he jumped towards the Head of Runestone and pushed him down. He felt a sudden sting on his right arm, just above his elbow. He looked down at his arm. Thankfully the arrow had just grazed his arm.

He looked up to see Cayn burying his dagger in the attacker's chest while Lord Royce sons were all free of their attackers.

"Thank You, my boy." Lord Royce told him as he got up from the ground. "You saved my life. I am in your debt. Who are you?"

He pulled himself up. "I am Robb Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," he said as he put forward his hand while trying hard to prevent them from shaking due to what happened just now.

Lord Royce looked at him in surprise. "Ned's son? Goodness, gracious!" he exclaimed. "You have grown Lord Robb. The last time I saw you, you were still on your mother's teats. Now, you are almost a man grown," he said as he reciprocated his gesture."This is Robar and this is Waymar. My sons," he told him as he pointed them out.

He clasped both of their hands in greeting. As he looked around, he found Jory walking towards him supporting Quent in his arms who had a nasty cut on his thigh.

"Quent! Are you alright?" he asked as he hurried towards them. "How deep is the cut?"

"Deep enough to sting like hell M'Lord"

"We need to leave immediately, My Lord. Quent needs to see the maester," he told Lord Royce, "Anybody else injured?" he called out as he looked around.

"No one else. Only one of your men Lord Robb," Robar replied. He nodded to him.

"Jory, bring Quent with you and give his horse to Lord Yohn," he said.

"Come my father is expecting you and your sons My Lord. He must be informed of this incident. We leave immediately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!!!!!


	4. Pentos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! I apologize for the long delay. I was very busy last month. And thanks for all the comments.

_ PENTOS _

_Pentos is one of the nine free cities, located on the western coastline of Essos. It is a large and rich port city of merchant lords and is located closest to all free cities to our capital. The city lies on the Bay of Pentos off the narrow sea, with the Flatlands and Velvet Hills to the east._

_Pentos was founded by merchants, traders, seafarers, and farmers from the Valyrian Freehold as a trading outpost.  Many were smallfolk who bred with local Andals, so the Pentoshi are less protective of Valyrian blood than other Free Cities. Like the other Free Cities, Pentos originated as a colony of the Valyrian Freehold and after the Doom of Valyria, it became an independent city-state during the ensuing Century of Blood. Pentos grew to control almost all of Andalos, with domains stretching from the Velvet Hills and the Little Rhoyne to the narrow sea._

_Pentos is a city where wealth equals power, ruled over by a prince with a council of rich Magisters. The Prince is chosen by the city’s Magisters from among the Pentoshi noble families. The Prince supposedly holds the powers of trade, justice, and war. However, should a crop fail or a war be lost, the Magisters slit the Prince’s throat and choose another. In truth, the Prince’s power is only nominal, and the true rulers of the city are the council of Magisters, wealthy merchant-princes. Slavery was heavily practised for most of Pentoshi history, but Braavos imposed abolition after several wars. Nonetheless, there are many servants that are slaves in all but name._

_Pentos’ economy is based mostly on trade and commerce of products such as spices, gemstones, wine and cheese. Cheese is the most traded commodity by the merchants in Pentos, leading to being derisively called as the City of Cheesemongers in Westeros._

_The support of Magister Illyrio Mopatis to the false king Aegon caused tension between the Crown and the ruling council of Pentos. This escalated when Aegon and his advisor Jon Connington along with the Golden Company invaded Westeros in their bid to install Aegon as the King. The invasion was swiftly crushed by King Robb and Prince Jon. As a result, the tension has abated in recent times, but there remains a considerable distrust due to the close relationship between the Crown and the Free City of Braavos._

_Excerpt from the book Chronicles of Essos by Maester Illister - 308 AC_

* * *

 

**Pentos, 297AC**

**Daenerys**

For years, they have been wandering the free cities, Braavos, Myr, Tyrosh, Qohor, Volantis, Lys, and now they are moving to Pentos. Magisters, Archons and all kinds of Merchant Princes welcomed them in those cities, but not anymore. With time their interests in the last two Targaryens decreased and eventually died out. Somewhere beyond the sea, lay a vast expanse of land called the Seven Kingdoms. Her brother called it “Our land” and his words echoed in her mind, “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh no. The dragon remembers.” She had never seen this land.

Viserys had been a boy of eight when he and mother fled King’s Landing to escape the Usurper’s army. She had not been born at that time. Her brother Rhaegar had died near the waters of the Trident, killed by the Usurper’s hammer. Then King’s Landing was sacked by the Usurper’s dogs, the Lords Lannister and Stark, Princess Elia and her children were brutally murdered before the Kingslayer cut opened her father’s throat.

She had born nine moons after their flight, after everything had gone wrong for their family, on Dragonstone, while a storm was raging outside. The storm was so terrible that it ripped huge stone blocks from the castle walls and sent them hurtling into the waters below. The Usurper’s brother had set sail to capture her and her brother and the castle garrison was plotting to sell them. But one-night Ser Willem Darry and few loyal men had broken into the nursery and smuggled them out of Dragonstone to the safety of Braavosian coast.

 She still remembered their guardian Ser Willem Darry, a bear of a man with a gruff but kind voice. They had settled in Braavos, living in a house with a red door. But when she was eight years old, he took sick and died within a few years. With his death, the servants stole everything, and they were thrown out. Till then they were living comfortably but without Ser Willem, their problems started. She and Viserys had to sell their last few treasures and eventually their mother’s crown to survive. Selling their mother’s crown turned Viserys from a caring brother to an angry and bitter man. Considering himself to be the rightful ruler, Viserys grew bitter and obsessed with the birthright he had been denied and she was a frequent target for his frustrations. Her mother had died giving birth to her and Viserys never forgave her for that. The brother who once cared for her, who told her stories about the Seven Kingdoms, their family and their history, was no more. He was replaced by a cruel and angry man.

Now, they were travelling to Pentos on the invitation of a Magister called Illyrio Mopatis who had invited them saying that it is a great honour to host the rightful king and princess of the Seven Kingdoms. She was old and mature enough to realize that no one does something for free. People always expect something in return for what they did. That is why she felt that the magister has some ulterior motive for inviting them.

When she had revealed her thoughts to Viserys, he had scoffed at her and said “Magister Illyrio knows that one day I will become the King of Seven Kingdoms and it is a great honour to host the rightful king and princess of the Seven Kingdoms. One does not need anything in return for hosting us. In fact, very few are privileged enough to do so. And Illyrio has not just invited us, he has promised to help me attain the throne. He has thought out some plan it would seem. Anyway, even if he wants something, he will get it, if he helps me, as I will be sitting on the Iron Throne.” He had told her this in a condescending manner as if he was telling a small child. She sighed at her memories as she was brought back to the present by the wind that was pulling at her clothes and blowing her silver-gold hair onto her face. She looked around her from her place at the back of the ship as the sea stretched in every direction, people called it the narrow sea, lying between the continents of Westeros and Essos and the free city of Pentos was situated by it. She had always loved the sea, as it made her feel free, as well as the sailors, their songs and stories.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother who was calling out her name.

“DANY...DANY...DAENERYS!!” she heard him calling out for her from below deck. She did not want to move away from her moment of peace. Finally, she let out a sigh and just as she was about to move, her brother climbed up to the upper deck. There was a familiar scowl on his face as he strode towards her.

“There you are! I’ve been shouting your name for the past five minutes,” he said in an irate tone.

“Forgive me, brother, I did not hear you due to the wind,” she said meekly.

Viserys looked at her with his pale lilac eyes, trying to judge whether she was telling the truth or not. Finally, he gave her a terse nod.

“What are you doing here at the back of the ship? Pentos is that way,” he said indicating to the front.

She lowered her eyes, “I was just thinking,” she said softly.

“Thinking?” he scoffed as if she was incapable of doing that.

“Get ready. The captain says we will reach Pentos in an hour. Make yourself presentable. You must look like the princess you are. Magister Illyrio is a powerful man and he has powerful friends in all the nine free cities. He will be able to lend us a huge amount of help. We need to make a good impression.”

She noticed he was wearing his best tunic. It was black, embroidered with a likeness of a three-headed dragon in scarlet on the chest. The same one he wears whenever they visit any eminent figures like Magisters, archons or merchant princes. It was the only attire among the few he had that looked expensive. And hers was not better, an indication of the state they were in at present. They were unable to afford new clothes or any other thing for that matter. Stopping her line of thought she focused her attention on her brother who was getting irritated by her lack of response. She hurriedly replied, “I will do as you say, brother.”

“Took you long enough to say that,” he replied tersely, “Go on then, get dressed.”

She quickly moved to the stairs that will lead her to the lower deck to satisfy her brother so that he doesn’t lash out at her. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. “Waking the dragon” he called it. He was very eager to reach Pentos, she surmised. He was obsessed about his claim to the Iron Throne and wants nothing more than to attain it.

As she passed, everyone stared at her and followed her with their eyes as she moved past them. This was a common occurrence for her. Wherever she went everyone stared. “It is because we are the Targaryens,” Viserys had once told her. Targaryens were known to be beautiful to look upon.

She descended the stairs, turned right and entered the small cabin she shared with her brother. She walked towards her chest which consisted of her clothes and other things and started rummaging around to find a fine dress that would make her presentable in her brother’s eyes.

Having dressed properly she made her way to the upper deck to find Viserys staring eagerly into the distance where the outline of Pentos was visible. As she went and stood beside him, she wondered what awaited them in this city.

* * *

 

The ship’s gangplank descended with a loud thud. As they disembarked, she could see hundreds of merchant ships and trading cogs lined up along the harbour. The harbor teemed with people from the city as well as distant lands. Shorehands rolled casks of wine, sailors loaded provisions, children ran and played near the docks and spices scented the soft breeze that was blowing. She could see the massive, high walls that guarded the city extending from the harbor and tall, square brick towers rising to the sky that dotted the city landscape.

She focused her attention on the party that stood before them in the dock. A man who can only be the Magister stood in front of the party. He was the biggest man she had seen in her life. He was huge and morbidly obese with a forked yellow beard that covered his falling jowl. He had a large belly and a pair of heavy breasts that sagged like sacks. He wore a huge yellow robe that looked like it was specially made for a man of his size and she could see rings bearing different gemstones lined up on his fingers. As they neared him, a strong smell of perfumes and pallid flesh assaulted her nostrils and she struggled to not to scrunch up her nose lest she offends the man. The Magister spread his hands to his sides and smiled, showing his crooked yellow teeth, as he walked surprisingly lightly towards them. Behind him stood a dozen strong men who were responsible for lifting his elaborately carved palanquin and eight Unsullied guards wielding long spears and wearing spiked bronze caps. She pitied the servants for they must lift a man of such weight.

“Viserys of House Targaryen, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and Daenerys, Princess of Seven Kingdoms. It is a great honor for this humble merchant to receive you. I bid you welcome to the great city of Pentos,” he said with a bow. Viserys bowed in return and she followed it with a neat curtsy.

“The honor is ours Magister Illyrio,” her brother replied.

_“_ Please, call me Illyrio, Your Grace. I am nothing but a humble servant to a King,” said Illyrio gesturing towards her brother. “I am sure your stay in Pentos will be a very fruitful one,” he said with a look towards her. Even though this moment should have been one of hopeful optimism, something stirred within her. Her instincts suggested that whatever this man had planned, it certainly did not bode well for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!!!


	5. Visitors from the Vale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Anything and everything in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to the great George R. R. Martin.
> 
>  
> 
> Hi all! I know you have all been waiting for the next chapter. I am very very sorry that I have made you wait for so long. There are a few reasons why I haven't been able to post. I graduated in June and I got my FIRST JOB! Woooo! So the first few months into my job have been unimaginably hectic. And for the past 2 months, I started what you can call story building/plot building and world building for my story. I started researching about historic battles and how I can incorporate the tactics used in those battles into my story. You see I love history and I am really fascinated by Alexander, Hannibal Barca, Julius Caesar and Darius and their strategies. I also made a huge list of awesome dialogues and sayings that I love which could be added to my story and I took some notes about the plot points and important sequences that will make up the story. Writing is a tough job whew! So these are the reasons that I couldn't post the update sooner. A huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers. Cheers!

_The Night's Watch_

_Unique in the Seven Kingdoms is the Night's Watch, the sworn brotherhood that has defended the Wall over centuries and millennia, born in the aftermath of the Long Night, the generation-long winter that brought the Others down on the realms of men and nearly put an end to them._

_The history of the Night's Watch is a long one. Tales still tell of the black knights of the Wall and their noble calling. But the Age of Heroes is long done, and the Others have not shown themselves in thousands of years if indeed they ever existed. And so, year by year, the Watch has dwindled. Their own records prove that this decline has been in progress even before the age of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Though the black brothers of the Watch still guard the realms of men as nobly as they may, the threats they face no longer come from Others, wights, giants, greenseers, wargs, skinchangers, and other monsters from children's tales and legend, but rather, barbaric wildlings armed with stone axes and clubs; savages to be sure, but only men, and no match for disciplined warriors._

_The Night's Watch, which might well be called the first militant order in the Seven Kingdoms (for the first duty of all its members is to defend the Wall, and all are trained at arms to this end), has divided its sworn brothers into three groups:_

_1) the stewards, who supply the Watch with food, clothing, and all the other things they need to make war,_

_2) the builders, who tend to the Wall and the castles,_

_3) the rangers, who venture into the wilds beyond to make war upon the wildlings._

_Leading them are the senior officers of the Watch, the chief of whom is the Lord Commander. He himself is appointed by election: the men of the Watch, each and_ every one _—from the unlettered former poachers to the scions of the great houses—will cast a vote for the man he believes should lead them. Once one man has the greater part of the votes, he will lead the Watch until his death. It is a custom that has largely served the Watch well, and efforts to subvert it (as when Lord Commander Runcel Hightower attempted to leave the Watch to his bastard son some five hundred years ago) have never lasted._

_Sadly, the most important truth about the Night's Watch today is its decline. It may once have served a great purpose. But if the Others ever existed, they have not been seen in thousands of years and are of no threat to men. It is the wildlings beyond the Wall who are the danger the Night's Watch now face. Yet only when there are Kings-beyond-the-Wall have the wildlings ever truly presented a threat to the realms of men. The vast expense in sustaining the Wall and the men who man it has become increasingly intolerable. Only three of the castles of the Night's Watch are now manned, and the order is a tenth of the size that it was when Aegon and his sisters landed, yet even at this size, the Watch remains a burden. Some argue that the Wall serves as a useful way of ridding the realm of murderers, rapers, poachers, and their ilk, whilst others question the wisdom of putting weapons in the hands of such and training them in the arts of war. Wildling raids may rightly be considered more of a nuisance than a menace; many wise men suggest that they might be better dealt with by allowing the lords of the North to extend their rule beyond the Wall so that they can drive the wildlings back. Only the fact that the Northmen themselves greatly honour the Watch has kept it functioning, and a great part of the food that keeps the black brothers of Castle Black, the Shadow Tower, and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea from starving comes not from the Gift but from the yearly gifts these Northern lords deliver to the Wall in token of their support._

_Excerpt from the book The Untold History by Maester Yandel - 295 AC_

 

* * *

 

  **VISITORS FROM THE VALE**

**Winterfell, 297 AC**

**Ned**

His morning routine has pretty much remained unchanged over the years. His steward Vayon wakes him up when the sun hovers just above the horizon in the morning and in turn he wakes his wife who would be sleeping next to him. Then he would take bath, alone or with Cat and then proceed to wake his children himself while his wife oversees the morning routine of the castle. Then he will do his prayers in the Godswood and two or three days a week he will join his sons for a spar or two so that he doesn't get rusty. After that, he will break his fast in the high table before going to do his duties as the Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North. So, today when he went to wake up Robb he was surprised to hear that he had already left to escort the Royces because of all his children Robb was the one who found it most difficult to wake up in the morning.

_Good, he has taken his duty seriously as always._  He thought to himself with a smile as he walked towards the castle godswood. He was not present for his eldest son's birth, having been away fighting against the Targaryens with his friend Robert. He still remembered his small face that looked up at him as he held him for the first time with tears in his eyes.

_He has grown so much, and I could not be prouder of him. Winterfell and the North will be in very capable hands if something happens to me._  He thought silently.

Having spent half his life training for war and the other half waging it, he had realized that a man's life is like a candle light that can be blown out at any time by an errant wind. He felt it was the right time to start giving important duties to his eldest son and include him in discussions of import concerning the ruling of Winterfell and the North.

As he came out of his musings he found himself entering the three-acre godswood. The sweet fragrance of the forest washed over him as he entered the dark and brooding place. Winterfell's godswood was thousands of years old, even older than Winterfell itself. A dense canopy of trees that included ash, chestnut, hawthorn, ironwood, oaks and sentinel stood over old packed earth, guarding the darkness and their misshapen roots twisted and turned beneath the soil. the ancient heart tree at its centre, standing over a pool of black water. Steam rose off the hot pools dotting the forest, fragrant with the smell of moss and mud and decay. Legend has it that Brandon the Builder built the castle around the grove and prayed in the ancient godswood. The forest had seen the castle's granite walls rise around it. It was said that the children of the forest had carved the faces in the trees during the dawn centuries before the First Men came. He ventured deep into the primaeval forest and knelt on the moss-covered ground before the weirwood tree which waited with its knowing red eyes and he felt a familiar sense of peace take hold of him as he started his prayer. Like his routine, his prayer to the Gods also remained mostly the same.

_Please guard my family. Guard Winterfell. Guard the North and my people. Please be my side, guide me, help me to make the right decisions. I beg you. May the remaining years of summer and autumn be bountiful and prosperous. Gods, I beg you, keep us all safe during winter. Keep my family safe._

As he knelt and prayed silently, he heard the crunching of twigs. Someone was coming towards him. He rose and turned to see Ser Rodrik standing at a distance. No doubt the old knight was hesitating to disturb him during his prayers. He could see the knight's face was troubled.

"A thousand pardons, Lord Stark." The old warrior said, bowing at the waist, and approached him. "Cayn has returned, My Lord, and informs me that there has been a skirmish near the old watchtower."

His heart clenched in fear for his son. "Robb…is he safe?" he asked hurriedly, his breath catching in his throat.

"Yes, My Lord," he heard Ser Rodrik say as he let out his breath

_Gods be good_

"And Jory, our men and the Royces?" he asked with urgency.

Rodrik smiled at his concern "All are alive My Lord but Quent is injured though. Your son sent Cayn in advance to inform you about the incident and Quent needs to see the Maester immediately. The party will be here anytime."

_The North had a reputation of keeping its roads safe for the travellers, unlike the south where it was more perilous to travel. If anything had happened to the Royces, that reputation would have been tarnished and he would have lost a dear friend and his sons as well._

He turned to the heart tree and silently thanked the gods for their kindness.

"Robb…what did he do?"

"I do not know My Lord," Ser Rodrik said with a shake of his head. "Cayn wanted to see you immediately so I didn't question him. He is waiting behind the guards hall"

"I will see him immediately. Meanwhile, please inform Maester Luwin and ask him to come to the East Gate courtyard along with few of our men. And inform Catelyn that the Royces are near."

"As you say, My Lord," the aged knight immediately bowed and left.

 

* * *

 

 He stood in the courtyard near the East Gate, along with Catelyn and their children save Robb. Maester Luwin and few of his men were ready with a stretcher to move Quent into the Keep. He, Cat and Maester Luwin had just heard what had happened from Cayn. So they knew the wound was not serious but Maester Luwin wasn't taking any chances. He had few potions and ointments ready with him in a bag slung across his shoulder.

The whole castle was abuzz from early morning in preparation for the arrival of the guests. His wife was standing next to him and the children, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon after her, all bathed and dressed befitting their status. She had seen to the mulling of wine and preparation of suitable wheels of sharp white cheese in the morning. The cooks were commanded to bake more bread, casks of wine and ale had been brought up from the cellar for the feasts and rooms and baths have been made ready.

He looked up and saw that the sky was clear. The morning sun beat down upon them but in spite of that, the air was crisp and cold causing their breaths to rise in puffs of smoke. A faint wind was blowing and over their heads flapped proudly, the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice-white field.

"RIDERS!" he heard a guard shout from a watch turret on the inner wall of the castle complex.

After a while, he heard the loud clattering of hoofs on the drawbridge of the East Gate. Cayn came first, bursting out of the gatehouse under the barbican, the direwolf banner flapped and fluttered atop the spear he bore. Then came Robb his face solemn and troubled, followed by Yohn Royce and two young men who could only his sons, Robar and Waymar. The thousands of years old bronze armour worn by his friend, inlaid with runes of the first men, gleamed brightly under the sun. Two men, who must have been their guards followed, one was holding the banner of House Royce; emblazoned with black iron studs on a bronze field bordered by runes. Alyn, Harwin, Jory and Quent came last. Quent and Jory shared a horse and it was plainly visible that Quent was in a great deal of pain. He watched with concern as the guards accompanying Maester Luwin immediately moved to help Quent dismount. There was a gash on his left thigh. A cloth was placed over it to stymie the bleeding. The aged Maester checked the wound and immediately instructed the men to place Quent in the stretcher. He hoped the wound wasn't too serious.

Yohn caught his eye and beamed at him. He swiftly dismounted followed by the others.

The Lord of Runestone was a huge man. The last time he had seen him, his head was a mop of black hair and his face looked younger. Now his face was aged and lined and the hair on his head had greyed. But his slate-grey eyes framed by very bushy eyebrows still shone with warmth and the skin around them crinkled as he beamed at him. Bronze Yohn, many call him, due to the ancient Bronze armour he wears.

"Ah Ned, it is good to see again after so many years," his friend boomed as he approached him.

"Yohn, it is good to see you as well," Ned said with a smile as they hugged and slapped each other's backs.

Introductions were made on both sides, the formalities of greetings were completed and pleasantries exchanged.

"I am really sorry for the trouble on the road, Yohn," he said with regret. "This does not happen usually."

Yohn waved his hands. "Think nothing of it, Ned. We are all unharmed, thanks to your son and his men." He nodded towards them. "They saved us at the right time."

He nodded in response.

"You all must be bone-weary from the travel. Rooms and hot baths have been prepared for all of you and breakfast awaits you in the great hall."

"A hot bath and breakfast will be most welcome, Ned. Thank You."

"Vayon here is my steward," he gestured towards the man. "Vayon, show them the way to their rooms and see that they have all they need," he then turned to his friend, "Please follow him. We will wait for you and your sons to join us in the Great Hall."

"My Lords, this way, if you please." Vayon led them to the Great Keep where the rooms were allotted for the guests. Robb strode out of the area immediately after waiting long enough to avoid causing disrespect.

He shared a look with his wife indicating that he will go and talk to Robb.

 

* * *

 

 After he had received the Royces, he found his son kneeling before the Heart Tree in the godswood, one of his longswords was before him, the point thrust in the earth with his gloved hand clasped around the hilt while his other longsword was lying on the ground. He would do the same after he had taken a man's life. Praying right after such a deed offered some peace of mind and time to reflect upon what he had done and why.

He approached his son, his boots crunched through the twigs and leaves fallen on the earth and sat beside him on a moss-covered stone. He heard him as he recounted everything about the skirmish near the Watchtower.

"I just jumped in front of him without thinking and the arrow just grazed my arm," Robb said lifting his elbow to show the injury prompting a concerned look from him as he inspected the wound.

_Cayn hadn't said anything about Robb being wounded. Probably he wouldn't have noticed in the aftermath._

"It is just a minor wound, nothing serious," Robb said hurriedly.

_The wound looks like it might need stitches. It could have been worse, I suppose. A few inches to the left and the arrow would have gone straight through his heart. He would have died in a matter of seconds._

Robb continued, "Then we left the area immediately. We couldn't move swiftly due to Quent's wound. He felt pain when the horses moved fast. So, I had Cayn sent before us to inform you of this." He son said as he looked at him uncertainly, "I …I somehow managed, I guess," he finished, uncertainty clouding his face.

As Robb finished recounting what had happened near the watchtower Ned marvelled at the maturity his son had shown in the face of battle

_A well thought out plan from a boy in his first battle. Well, I should expect nothing less, I suppose. He is Robb after all. He has always been mature and wise beyond his age and was excellent when it came to martial pursuits. A true Stark indeed._

"Robb," he stated firmly, "you did very well. You led our men bravely and didn't rush into battle headlong as many men are wont to do. Your mother and I are proud of what you did and be proud of yourself. Because of your plan, our men are alive and my friend Yohn is alive because of your selfless deed," he told his son.

"And you have gained yourself a valuable ally in Yohn Royce. He owes his life to you and from now on he will be a friend to you too."

Robb just listened quietly. His face was glum and sad.

"Your forethought in asking the men to avoid taking the horses and advance with unsheathed swords is something even experienced men tend to forget."

His attempt at cheering his son by praising him had failed as Robb just nodded mutely.

"Robb what is bothering you?" he asked though he knew well enough what was bothering his son.

_I have been there and I know what it feels like to take a man's life. But you must face this on your own son. All I can do is offer my advice and support. And Winter is coming._

He still remembered his first kill as if it had happened yesterday. He, Robert and Jon Arryn along with the men of Arryn Household guard had been travelling back to the Eyrie from Redfort when a small contingent of mountain clansmen had ambushed them. They came out of nowhere as they were moving along the High Road which passed along the rocky foothills and thick forests of the Mountains of the Moon. The terrain offered plenty of suitable places of ambush for the mountain wildlings. He was so surprised that he was nearly hacked by a clansman before he managed to kill him. He remembered how it had affected him deeply. It was Jon and Robert who helped him get out of that stupor. Having seen him getting nearly killed, Jon had flown into a rage and had personally led war parties against the hiding clansmen.

"I asked the men to fight to kill. I didn't think about it when I gave that order. They could have been captured alive and brought to Winterfell to face justice. But I killed them. They were criminals, yes, but still, they are men."

Ned knew what Robb meant and what he was feeling. He had felt the same so many times in the wars he had fought and when he sent men to their deaths. He truly felt for him, having seen so many of his men and those of the enemy dead across so many battlefields.

"Robb," he said firmly as he tilted his son's face to make him look at him. "If you hadn't given that order our men would have fought at a disadvantage. Your decision might well have saved someone's life. The criminals are dead, Robb, they have faced justice for their actions," he said as he tried convincing his son that his actions were right.

Hearing his words Robb just sighed sadly. Ned tried a different track.

"If you hadn't given that order, there was always the chance they might have escaped and killed someone else, they would have harassed travellers and merchants and farmers. It would have taken days if not months, to recapture them. You yourself said it, Robb, there were Night's Watch deserters in the group you fought. Men who have broken the oaths they've sworn. You are a Stark and it is your duty to protect our people, to protect the North. And by removing these men, you have done your duty of protecting our lands. You take no pleasure from the task, which is good, for a man who loves killing will soon forget that he is human."

His son had listened carefully and was mulling over what he said. After a moment of he sighed and nodded.

"I understand," Robb said softly.

"I know this doesn't make you feel better but at least this will help you come to terms with it. Talk to me or to your mother. We will always be here for you. Or else there is Jon. You know your brother is a good listener. Like us, he will always help you and be here for you."

His son looked up with a small smile and replied, "I know, father." Robb took a deep breath and continued, "It will take some time," he paused, "but I think I'll be alright."

This elicited a smile from him.

"If you don't mind, I'll pray here for some time."

He gave an understanding nod. "Take all the time you need, son and get the wound cleaned up by Maester Luwin soon or it might fester." And with a pat on his son's back, he turned away and carefully made his way through the canopy of trees.

As he moved away from the heart tree, he caught a glimpse of a silhouette at the distance. He walked towards the figure and found that it was his wife who stood there watching from afar. Her hands were fretting in obvious concern for their eldest.

"Cat?" he called out. His wife stepped forward, concern plain in her face.

"Ned, is Robb alright? I heard what happened from Jory. He is not injured is he?"

"Cat," he stopped her. "Robb..." he paused, "has killed Cat. He is affected by what he has done."

"Why did you have to send him Ned. Jory should have led the party not Robb," she said fiercely.

"Catelyn," he said firmly. 'Robb is not our little boy anymore. He is fifteen My Lady and soon to be a man. How long will we shelter him behind the walls of Winterfell? He needs to lead Cat. He needs to command. He is the heir to the largest kingdom in Westeros and this experience, while unfortunate, is necessary. And Winter is coming."

His wife sighed helplessly, "We have to help him, Ned."

"We will, Cat," he told his wife gently, taking her hands in his. "We will lend our ears when he needs it. We can do nothing more."

Conflicted emotions warred on her face. On one side she wanted to go to Robb, hold him in her hands and ask how he is herself while on the other side she wanted to give him time to understand and come to terms with what has happened.

"Cat, Robb just needs time to think things through. He will be alright. He is a Stark. He will endure," he said as he gently kissed her forehead. "Come, we will leave him to his prayers and when he needs us we will be there for him."

His wife hesitated just for a second before she sighed sadly and nodded allowing him to lead her out of the godswood hand in hand.

"He should have never faced this," his wife said unhappily as they exited the godswood.

"In an ideal world, he wouldn't have, My Lady. But that is not possible here I am afraid. This is how our world is. The sooner he learns, the better."

"I cannot agree more, Ned, but that does not lessen my concern."

He just squeezed his wife's hands in response.

 

* * *

 

 They had broken their fast on fresh hot bread, cheese and honey and blackberry preserves, rashers of bacon and soft-boiled eggs, nice wedges of cheese and pots of mint tea. By the time they had finished, Yohn was most grateful to put some proper food in his belly after days of travelling. He and his sons had then returned to their rooms for some rest. After that, he had removed himself to the confines of his solar. This was his father's solar and his father's before him. The room remained in the same way his father had left it years ago. It was a very spacious room with good light and it was warm like the rest of the castle due to hot water being piped through the walls. Two tall ceiling-high shelves flanked the room entrance in which numerous books lined it along with stacked scrolls and ledgers. His table, an ornately carved massive piece of furniture stood on one side of the room along with the chairs and a tapestry beautifully embroidered with a grey direwolf on a white background hung on the wall behind. On the other side of the room, a huge fireplace was built into the wall with two elaborate tapestries hung on either side, a map of the North was embroidered in the left while the whole map of Seven Kingdoms was embroidered into the other. On the opposite side of the entrance, a huge balcony jutted out towards the north like the prow of a ship. He could see the Wolfswood from here and the Northern Mountains soared into the sky on the horizon, its snow-covered peaks disappearing among the clouds. A wooden cabinet stood near the balcony with flagons of wine, ale and other refreshments and the floor was covered with an expansive grey woollen carpet.

Now he was hunched over at his table in the solar trying to decide what must be sent to the wall. It was covered with ledgers, scrolls, and parchments. He was going over the grain and material stock at Winterfell and the reports from Night's Watch Commander Lord Jeor Mormont so that he could commission supplies and materials to be transported to the Night's Watch along with his friend Yohn and his party.

_Quite a laborious task._

Nearly three centuries back when Aegon the Conqueror had landed on the shores of Westeros along with his sisters and dragons, the Night's Watch had been ten thousand strong force. Only a tenth of that number was manning the wall now. The Night's Watch had raised nineteen castles to guard the hundred leagues of the Wall, although they have never manned more than seventeen at one time. Today only three of them are maintained by an ever dwindling force: Castle Black, Eastwatch-by-the-sea and Shadow Tower. The farmlands of the Gift and New Gift, which were under the control of the Night's Watch had lost most of its population as the people moved south to avoid wildling raids, further depleting the Watch's support. Now, only the supplies and materials sent by him and the other lords of the North kept the Night's Watch from collapsing completely.

He sighed and continued to peruse the reports from the Wall. He wanted to finish as much as he can before he had to meet his friend who was supposed to arrive at his solar any time now. He heaved a sigh as he went over the reports and a sudden thought occurred.

_I could give this task to Robb. At least this will keep him distracted for a while and I could ask him to draft some measures to keep the wildling incursions in check. I have to discuss that with him later._

With his mind made up, he summoned his steward to his room.

"Vayon, get these scrolls and ledgers to Robb's room," indicating towards the huge pile of scrolls, ledgers and books. "Inform him that he needs to take stock of our supplies and materials and must go over the Lord Commander's reports. Give him the grain provisioning figures and the quantity of steel, iron, and leather we have. He needs to decide what and how much should be sent to the Night's Watch. Inform him after he has returned from the godswood. He might start whenever he feels up to it. After he has finished get his report and go over it once before passing it to Maester Luwin and Catelyn."

"You are not going to go through it, My Lord?" his steward asked in surprise.

"No, Vayon. Just check if we have what Robb deems to be sent. And ask Ser Rodrik to find if there any volunteers for the Night's Watch."

Vayon bowed. "It shall be as you command, My Lord. I'll get some men to transfer this to your son's room".

He nodded at his steward as he closed the door. He didn't need to wait long before Vayon returned with two of his guards to transfer the pile to Robb's room.

_Father. What about Jon?_ Robb's question floated into his mind.

Just as Vayon was about to close the door he stopped him. "Vayon wait!"

"My Lord?"

"Ask Robb to take the help of Jon if he needs it and be sure to inform this when Catelyn is not around."

"Yes, My Lord," his faithful steward gave an understanding nod and left the room.

Immediately after a few minutes, knuckles rapped on his door.

"Yes?" he called out.

Desmond, one of two men standing guard outside his door stuck his head in.

"Come in Desmond."

Desmond bowed. "Lord Yohn Royce is without, My Lord."

"Thank You. Send him in immediately."

The tall figure of his friend entered his solar as Desmond closed the door behind him.

"Ah, Ned!" he said jovially.

"Yohn," Ned nodded at him with a smile. "Please sit," he motioned to the chairs in front of his desk as he got up from his chair.

"I hope Winterfell's hospitality has been to your satisfaction."

"Ned you have treated us like royals," said his friend chuckling. "I must say, the breakfast was scrumptious. It was good to have a proper meal after many days of travelling."

"I'm glad," he replied and then moved over to the side cabinet and lifted a flagon of wine. "Refreshments?"

"Yes please."

"So, what news do you bring from the South?" he asked as he poured a glass of wine for his friend and handed it over.

"Ah, the South? Same old Ned. Same old. Politics, intrigue, backstabbing, all usual shit I assure you," his friend said they both chuckled and he nodded in response completely familiar with the ways of the south. While the Northmen do tend to carry out political intrigues, it wasn't as bad as in the South where it is the way of living. Life was much simpler in the North.

"I went to King's Landing a few months back. To that cesspit of a city as you used to call it," Yohn said smiling and sipped the wine. "For Prince Joffrey's name day."

"Oh…so how are our dear friends Jon and Robert? It has been many years since I've last seen them."

"Pah! You know Jon. He is as hale and hearty as a twenty-year-old and Robert… well, Robert is still Robert. Hasn't changed one bit. He still loves wine, women and hunting, I assure you," his friend said getting a nostalgic smile from him.

"Robert has always been like that," he said and Yohn bobbed his head in agreement. "And how are my good-sister and nephew?"

"Lysa is well. As for your nephew…,' Yohn hesitated. "What do I say, Ned? He is alright for most of the time, but he has been afflicted by some disease that causes frequent seizures", shaking his head Yohn sighed sadly, "Jon's maester treats him by bleeding him with leeches and administers dreamwine and milk of the poppy occasionally but he doesn't know whether it can be cured."

He grew sad hearing this, "I must tell Cat. I don't think she has any knowledge about this."

Yohn nodded.

"How is Jon taking this?" he asked.

"As well as he can, Ned. I hope this disease afflicting the little lord gets cured. Jon has seen enough tragedies in his life."

He nodded silently his mood growing sad for his foster father who had lost so much in life.

Jon Arryn was the first of three children of Lord Jasper Arryn, his brother and sister being Ronnel and Alys Arryn. Jon's first wife Jeyne Royce, a cousin of Yohn, had died during childbirth and the daughter was stillborn. Unfortunately, it will not stop there. Tragedy will strike a few more times for House Arryn. Jon's second wife Rowena Arryn, a distant cousin died of winter chill before they could conceive a child together. Then his brother Ronnel would die because of a bad belly at same time Ronnel's son Elbert was born and was designated as Jon's heir. But he would die at the Mad King's orders after he rode south along with his brother Brandon.

_Tragedy after tragedy struck Jon, but he never wavered. He lived with honour, did his duty and always had a smile for everyone._

He and Robert had come to look upon the Lord of the Eyrie as a father. When the Mad King had ordered him to bring their heads, Jon out of love he bore for his two foster sons and heir, had raised his moon -and-falcon banners in revolt, incensed at the injustice being meted out to their families.

"Your son," Yohn suddenly said. "It was his first taste of battle wasn't it?"

He nodded solemnly.

"I thought so. I realised it the instant I saw his eyes after the skirmish. The lad saved my life Ned and he fought exceptionally well. To fight like that at this age is a very rare thing. Not even you fought with such composure and grace at this age. You should be very proud."

Ned smiled, "Believe me, Catelyn and I are very proud. And Ser Rodrik keeps crowing the same thing whenever I meet him in the training yard."

Yohn nodded then continued, "We were planning on leaving on the morrow, Ned. As soon as the first light. We do not want to impose ourselves on you for more than a day."

"Yohn," he said, his voice stern. "We meet each other after many years and you don't even stay at my castle for a few days. Is this how the Lord of Runestone treats his friends?" he questioned with his eyebrows raised as he leaned back in his seat and clasped his hands together.

Yohn threw his hands up smiling, "Oh alright Ned, alright. We will stay here for a week and enjoy the hospitality of Winterfell."

"Good," he replied happily and continued. "Anyways I need to send materials and supplies to the Watch. Steel, leather, grains and wheat mostly along with castle forged swords, knives and pikes. It would take at least twenty wagons to transport all of it. I hope to send it along with your party with an escort. Also, there might be one or two men from Winter Town volunteering for the watch. Benjen visits Winterfell every six months and usually, I send the supplies with him when he returns back to the Wall. But, you are here now so I thought I could send it with you."

"That will be alright Ned. The Old Bear Mormont will certainly appreciate it. The Watch is a shadow of what it once was. I'll see what I can do when I return to Runestone."

Ned gave his friend a grateful nod.

"So, your son Waymar, he is young to join the Watch."

"He is young," Yohn agreed. "But I did not force him to do this Ned. As much as I would have liked to ask him to join, he made this decision on his own. He is my third son and I don't have any castles to give. He has few chances at wealth or land so he decided to take the black in search of glory and honour. I couldn't say no to him when he came to me to talk about this. His mind was already set. He is stubborn like his mother," Yohn said with a smile.

"Lady Yonella wasn't happy I presume."

"Oh she wasn't," Yohn said with a shake of his head. "Raged against me for a whole night for not stopping Waymar," Yohn said with a fond smile, "and bawled her eyes out to him. But he wouldn't listen."

Lady Yonella previously of House Hunter was the wife of Yohn and Lady of Runestone. A woman with blue eyes, a kind smile and a red-hot temper, who was very fond of him and Robert. Whenever they visited Runestone, Lady Yonella would jest and jape with them and when they were leaving she would always insist on giving them a bag overflowing with sweetcakes and mince pies for the travel.

"Well, it would be for the best I believe. The Watch could use the extra pair of hands," Ned said.

"True that," Yohn agreed with a nod and changed the subject. "So, the long summer is nearing its end and I heard the North is faring very well?"

"Aye, we are," he replied with satisfaction, "Trade and agricultural productivity are at an all-time high. Wheat, barley, soft fruits and other foodstuffs are being produced in plenty. Our share in the trade of lumber in the Seven Kingdoms have increased from half to quarter of the total share in the last five years and Braavos is getting all its wood from us. White Harbour is teeming with merchants from the rest of the Westeros and the Free Cities. And with winter approaching we will charge a very good price for woollen pelts as well. The Gods have been very kind on us this summer."

Yohn bobbed his head, "That is very good to hear, Ned. I was meaning to talk to you about the price. I'm sure you would charge a substantial price for fur and wool for other kingdoms. Perhaps House Stark could be kind on House Royce in this regard?"

Ned smiled and spread his hands, "House Stark is open to negotiation."

 

* * *

 

  _Seven bloody buggering hells!_  He cursed mentally. Every damn part of his body ached as he struggled to climb the stairs.  _Lord of Winterfell unable to climb the stairs of his own castle. The gods must be japing._

He had been sparring for hours yesterday. From afternoon to evening, he had gone against his sons, the Royces, Ser Rodrik and Jory as well. Robb and Jon had gotten along well with the Royces. Though the youngest Royce Waymar had been very aloof to Jon due to his status but Robar had become fast friends with Robb and Jon. He was very happy with that. It was good for his sons to have friends of the same age from other houses. They had hunted and feasted together for seven days and in those days the lads have grown friendly with each other, though saving their lives would certainly have contributed to it.

Yohn had taken a huge liking to both his sons, particularly Robb. Praising them for their skills the entire time with that booming voice of his. After the first spar against them, it took a few seconds for him to find his voice. 'Exceptional!' Yohn had exclaimed, 'they both are something else, Ned. They would have defeated me if I hadn't been careful' Yohn had said. Very high praise coming from the man though a touch exaggerated. In each bout, Robb had fought like a man possessed. Killing had changed Robb, he had realised yesterday when he saw his son fight like that. He himself went against the Lord of Runestone who was one of the best warriors he had ever seen. Ned was defeated rather handsomely the first time he went against him. But somehow he had managed to win the second bout after that in the third and final bout of the day, they both accepted a draw as they were too tired to continue, much to the disappointment of the onlookers.

He hadn't sparred this much in a single day for a long time. By the time he had gone to bed he was so tired that he thought he was going to fall down on his face while walking.

_Thank the gods I didn't fall flat on my face during the feast. He snorted. What a sight that would have been?_

But that was not the worst part. When he had tried to wake up this morning, the muscles all over his body protested painfully causing him to groan loudly which had woken Cat and brought his panicked guards running into their room, much to her amusement. His wife had then drawn a very hot bath for him to relax his sore muscles and massaged him with oils and salves giving him some measure of relief. But still, it was bloody painful for him to move.

He sighed despondently as he climbed another flight of stairs that would take him to the Great Keep, with his hands braced on the wall for support.

_I would rather be in bed than trying to exert myself like this, but duty calls._

The Royces were leaving for the wall today and he had to be there with his family to bid them farewell.  _No rest for the weary, I suppose._

As he was struggling, he heard someone trying to smother an amused snort. He turned slowly, his hand still braced on the stone wall, to see Robb and Jon standing at the base of the stairs. He examined Robb's face closely. His eldest son seemed to be in good spirits today. Much better than during the first few days since that fateful day. He had been solemn and sad the entire time. Often praying in the godswood or sitting by the window of his room deep in thought. His fighting had changed too. He fought with a purpose now. Each stroke, each cut of his blade was struck with force and intent when he was in the yard.

_He is doing everything he can to not lose his life the next time he faces a foe._

Unfortunately for Jon, he faced the brunt of Robb's fierce attacks as he was his sparring partner.

"Fine sons you both are. Standing there amused while your father is struggling here," he said without any heat. That caused them to move. Both the boys immediately supported him on either side and helped him climb.

"Warden of the North struggling to climb a stair. Some sight this must be," he muttered.

"You are getting old, father," Robb replied amusedly while Jon struggled to hold back a snigger. That got his eldest son a cuff on the back.

"I'm four and thirty, not four and eighty," he replied. " I must start sparring daily with you boys. Two or three times a week won't do, seeing how you both are not affected by yesterday's exertion."

"We always welcome more competition father," Jon said.

"Aye. At the risk of repeating myself, I will say this, you both did very well yesterday," he said as they reached the top of the stairs. " Yohn is mighty impressed with you both and I hope Robar's pride is not too chafed after you both ran him to ground." As far he had seen Robar was a very good fighter and had clearly inherited his father's aptitude for sword fighting but his sons were clearly on a different level which Robar had realized yesterday.

"Not at all, father. He was very gracious in defeat," Robb said.

He hummed in response and gave himself some reprieve as he manoeuvred towards the wooden railing overlooking the courtyard near the Great Hall and supported himself against it. He looked around the courtyard. It was a hive of activity. Servants, stable-hands, guards, and livestock were milling about.

"Have you checked the wagons and supplies?" he turned to his sons and asked.

"We just finished, father," Jon said handing out a neatly rolled parchment.

He took the parchment and unrolled it, "What is this?"

"We checked everything and made a final list of everything before loading the wagons," Robb said.

_Smart lads._

"Everything is in order," said Jon.

Two hundred fifty bushels of wheat, barley and grain, which will be carried in ten wagons. With castle forged swords, pikes, and shields, a hundred of each. Fifty rolls of leather, each roll measuring five feet by three feet. Of that forty were boiled and the remaining ten were unboiled. Added to this, a hundred pelts of wool and bars of iron and steel. These will be carried in twenty wagons bringing the total number of wagons to thirty.

_These many wagons would require a significant escort with men who have been to the Wall before._

"We took the liberty of picking the men who would be part of the escort, father. Few of them have been to Castle Black before. So the men will know the proper places for rest and can time their travel accordingly," Robb said unknowingly echoing his thoughts.

The list contained the types of leather, wool and number of rolls and pelts of each as well causing it to be quite an extensive list.

"Very good both of you. A thorough and efficient work," he said with a smile after going through it.

_Thorough, efficient and meticulous. Not a single detail has been overlooked._

They both bowed their heads in thanks.

He rolled the parchment carefully and handed it back to Jon. "Jon get this to Vayon. He will copy this to our ledgers so that we can keep a record of what was sent and ask Jory to bring the wagons to the east gate along with our men, " he said as he moved off the railing. "We'll meet you in the courtyard by the East gate. The Royces will be leaving soon and we must be present when they do."

The Royces will leave happy after the seven days of revelry they had experienced in their honour and they wouldn't leave empty-handed either. He had gifted strong Ironwood shields crafted specially by Forrester armourer for Yohn and his three sons and two fine Myrish looking glasses for Lady Yonella and her daughter.

By the time he and Robb had reached the courtyard by the east gate, his wife and remaining children were already there. The horses were saddled and ready. The supply wagons and its escort were already moving out of the gate and onto the King's Road where they will turn North towards the Wall.

"Ned," Yohn approached him as Robb went to the younger Royces. "Thank You, Ned, for everything. We had a fine time here. We appreciate it."

"No need to thank my friend. It was a pleasure and honour to host you and your sons in Winterfell. House Royce will always be welcome here."

"Likewise, Ned. House Stark can always find friends in House Royce. I assure you that. We might be from the Vale but we will always stand with you in the time of your need."

He nodded at his friend gratefully for his words.

_A good and honourable man. And a good friend as well._

Then Yohn turned to his son. "Lord Robb, you have saved our lives. House Royce is in your debt. Anything or any favour you would ask of me, it will be my honour to do it."

"Your friendship alone will be enough, My Lord," replied Robb as he clasped hand with Yohn.

"You have much of your father in you, Lord Robb," Yohn said to Robb, " and there can be no higher praise for you."

Robb smiled and nodded uncertainly, clearly uncomfortable at what Yohn had just said.

Then it was his turn to clasp hands with his friend while Robb did the same with Robar and Waymar. After they had bid their farewells, the Royces and their men along with six of his own household guards tasked with their protection mounted their horses and trotted out of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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